


Día de Valentín

by Josies



Series: No Saints Without Sinners [3]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Saints Row 1, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-08 09:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17978360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josies/pseuds/Josies
Summary: "You?" she asks slowly, still staring at him with her eyes slightly narrowed. "Wanna go out with me?"





	Día de Valentín

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to post this on Valentine's Day, but life got in the way 🤷♀️ I don't really know anyone who's into BossDex, so I'm just dragging y'all following this series with me 💜 I have some headcanons about Dex I'll be using in my writing:
> 
> 1) he always seemed a little younger than the other lieutenants to me, so he's a year older than Doe (meaning he turns 23 during SR1)  
> 2) his family's originally from Puerto Rico, so he's Afro-Puerto Rican  
> 3) his family's also wealthy (not like _rich_ rich, but he does drive a pretty expensive sports car and stuff) and they live in a better neighborhood.
> 
> Again, these are just my headcanons I came up with to explain some things, like Dex's obsession with Spanish grammar, and why Dane Vogel offered him a job, which led him to become a millionaire in two years (higher education and family connections added to his intelligence level make sense). He wasn't given much backstory, so I'll just do whatever I want.
> 
> Anyway, this is a one shot for now, but I might add a chapter or two later, if I come up with cute stuff for the date! 😊

 

 

* * *

  **February 2006**

* * *

 

Dex taps his fingers against his desk restlessly. He's much more nervous than he should be, which makes him feel stupid, even if he tends to be anxious by nature. Doris sits on the other side of the desk, chewing gum, lazily flipping the pages of a magazine, looking bored. If she knew there was no real reason for her to be sitting there after eight in the evening, she would probably kill him. She's unpredictable and terrifyingly chill about killing people. They've gone to a nearby coffee shop together several times during the past few weeks and each time she's given him a chance to ask her five questions in exchange for buying her a cup of coffee, and yet he still doesn't know why she doesn't speak around other people, why she chose to speak to him, and how it's possible for someone like her to keep her mouth shut around some of the dumbasses in their crew.

He snaps out of his thoughts for a second when she giggles at the magazine. Sometimes, when he says something she finds funny, and she giggles and her smile reaches up to her eyes, God, he never wants it to end. When that happens, she turns her head the other way in an attempt to hide her reaction, and she leaves him with a certain warmth growing in his chest, a craving for more. He hasn't seen her smile like that around anyone else. Her attention is flattering. She's stunning and witty and resourceful, and he's managed to develop an enormous crush on her. She makes him feel like when he fell hard for a girl in his class for the first time at thirteen, only ten times more intense. She makes him nervous, but in a thrilling and compelling way. It's getting difficult to concentrate on work when she's in the same room, and even when she's not around, she's constantly on his mind.

That's why he's spent half of the day waiting for a quiet, private moment to ask her something, and now that the moment's there, now that he has his chance, he's half-hoping for someone to barge in and stop him from making a complete fool of himself. Even Johnny Gat would be a welcome sight right now to soothe the anxiety raging in his head.

"So," Dex finally says, doing his best to act casual by going through some papers on his desk, instead of looking at her, "you got any plans for tomorrow?"

Doris flips a page and pops her bubble gum. "Nope."

"Really?" He glances her way, now. "You don't have, like, a date with anyone?"

"Tomorrow's Tuesday," she states blandly without taking her eyes off the magazine. She's bored out of her mind, and therefore not paying enough attention to him and why he's asking her something like that. She's expecting him to need help with the Carnales, or that it has something to do with Johnny's psychotic ideas about taking down the Vice Kings. "Why?"

"Well, ya know, I was just wonderin' if you, uh..." He trails off, rubbing his hands together, silently ridiculing himself, calling himself a coward, since it's not like he's never asked anyone out before. He sighs inaudibly as he gets off his chair, pulls out a bouquet of flowers and a heart-shaped box from under his desk, and steps closer to Doris to hold them out for her. "You wanna be my Valentine?" he asks way faster than he intended.

She frowns at her magazine and she turns her head slowly to give him a cold, judgemental stare, and for a few painfully long seconds he _knows_ she's going to turn him down, and that each interaction they have will be awkward as hell from now on, because of his inability to read her signals right, and because of the poorly calculated risk he decided to take this morning by stopping by the mall to purchase the cheesy gifts, instead of driving straight to the church like a normal fucking person, and not the over-enthusiastic creep he's being right now. He's already witnessed two guys making a pass at her, only to have been turned down by her ridiculing glare and a flip of her hair as she's turned and walked away, and there's no reason why she would treat him any different.

"You?" she asks slowly, still staring at him with her eyes slightly narrowed. "Wanna go out with me?"

He blinks. "Yeah?"

Her frown deepens. "Are you sure?" It's not like her to ask something like that. She knows her own worth and, honestly, any man would be privileged to take her out on a date. But, despite of how she's flirted around with him, and how cute and funny he is, he's not the type of a guy she would usually show interest in, and from everything she knows about him so far, she figured she weren't exactly his type, either. He strikes her as someone she would expect to be engaged to his high school sweetheart by now, planning a wedding, buying their first house together, and all that other typical shit. She still doesn't know what he's even doing in a street gang. She's asked him about it a couple of times, but aside from telling her he used to live in the Row as a kid, his answers have been very vague so far.

He just stands there, confused, still holding the box in one hand and the bouquet in the other. "What do ya mean?"

Her frown eases. He sounds so dumbfounded, it's adorable. She turns back to her magazine, flipping another page. "It's tomorrow, huh?"

"What is?" he asks, feeling like an idiot the moment the words leave his mouth.

"V-day."

"Um—yeah."

She purses her lips into a subtle grin and throws the magazine onto the desk. Then, to his great surprise, she turns around to take the box from him. It's a perfect opportunity for her to play a little. "You know what?" She places the box on her lap to carefully unwrap the big bow around it as she speaks. "These better be some good-ass sweets, 'cause I'm about to base my answer entirely on 'em."

"Sure hope chocolates worth of eighty-five dollars to be good," he says, feeling the need to flex a little, knowing he's going to have to impress her for a chance for her to say yes.

She cocks an eyebrow as she glances at him. "You spent eighty-five bucks on this box?"

"Double on the flowers," he continues.

"What did ya do? Fly 'em in from Europe?" she asks with an amused giggle. The gifts are corny as hell, but she appreciates the fact he didn't go cheap on her, not to mention the bouquet is one of the most gorgeous ones she's ever received, or even seen; it consists of a dozen light pink roses, mixed with purple stargazer lilies, white orchids, lavender-tinted baby's breath, white stock, and seeded eucalyptus. Even the glass vase the flowers were carefully arranged into looks lovely. Dex doesn't know how much she loves flowers and it's really difficult for her to act like she's not about to lose her mind over the bouquet.

"Didn't have time for that," he says with a shrug of his shoulders. There's a light grin on his lips, mimicking hers.

"Damn, you so cute for a rich boy," she says in a playful tone. "I better not find any dark chocolate in this box, though."

He nods. "Don't worry about that." Judging by all the vanilla lattes and other sweet and sugary coffees he's bought for her so far, he figured she wouldn't be a fan of dark chocolate. At least he did something right.

She opens the box to find thirty pieces of assorted chocolates, each one beautifully decorated, and nothing too dark for her taste. She takes her time picking out a white chocolate with pink sprinkles on top, and once she bites into it, she can't help her eyes widening in delight — it's filled with silky, champagne-flavored fudge that melts in her mouth into a damn near sinful phenomenon. If Dex weren't there, staring at her with his hopeful puppy-dog eyes, she would do the sign of the cross and shove the entire box into her mouth.

"So," he shifts nervously in his place, "you like 'em?"

"I dunno," she says, managing to act neutral as she holds out the box for him to prolong his torture. "Could use a second opinion."

He takes one and pops it into his mouth. The chocolate starts melting on his tongue. "It's, uh, sweet?"

"You know, I've had hand-crafted chocolates with edible gold on 'em, so the bar ain't too low," she gives him a teasing grin, "just sayin'."

He chuckles, nervous again. "That so?"

"If I were to say yes," she takes the bouquet from him and runs the tips of her fingers gently on the buds of the roses, eager to see how beautiful they are once they bloom, "where would you take me tomorrow?"

"Well, there's this place—"

"And don't you dare say you'd take me out for coffee," she interrupts him. She needs her daily dose of caffeine, but if he wants to take her out on a real date, a coffee shop won't cut it.

"There's this place in Encanto that serves the best mofongo outta Puerto Rico," he says. "You ever had it?"

"Don't think I have."

"You'll love it, I promise."

"So, a dinner?"

He nods. "Yeah."

"But not at a fancy restaurant downtown?"

"It ain't fancy, but it's a place I go to when I feel down, or when I miss home," he says as he sits back down to his chair. "Thought you might like that better."

"That actually sounds sweet," she admits, smelling the flowers to hide a smile. He's already sounding more thoughtful than most people she has dated before combined.

"They got pretty dope piña coladas and desserts, too."

She gives him a look. "You plannin' to get me drunk?"

"Would that be bad?"

"Dexter Jackson," she says, pretending to be shocked, "here I was beginnin' to think you're a gentleman."

He shrugs, smiling. "Guess you thought wrong."

"Honey, I ain't never wrong."

"You did lose that bet last weekend at the bar," he reminds her.

"That doesn't count!"

"It doesn't?"

"How was I supposed to know Troy would be able to drink a big-ass jar of pickle juice in less than fifteen seconds?" Her voice sounds almost offended. "It was, like, three years old!"

"I'm pretty sure he's done it before," he says, laughing at the memory of how horrified Doris looked watching Troy chug down a quart of green, bitter liquid with incredible speed, mouthing a disgusted _what the fuck_ to herself.

She scrunches her nose. "That's just disturbin'."

"He's a disturbin' man."

"Fits right in, though."

"Yeah."

They fall silent for a moment as she keeps tracing the flowers with the tips of her fingers, chewing on the inside of her lower lip, pondering her answer. She mostly goes on dates when she wants something: attention, gifts, expensive dinner, free drinks, favors, or to simply use someone she finds attractive for one night, only giving them her real number for random booty calls if she tolerates them as a person. Explains perfectly why she hasn't been together with anyone for a long time, not to mention _ever_ having something one could call a serious relationship.

It could be time for her to try something different.

"I can't believe you're makin' me say this," she finally says softly, smiling at him from under her lashes, "but I'll be your valentine."

It takes him a second to register that she, in fact, told him yes. "You will?" he asks as he shifts in his seat into a more alert position.

"Did you lie earlier to make me stay here with you, so you could ask me out?"

"Well—yeah," he says, scratching the back of his neck as a nervous habit, expecting her, at the very least, to let him hear a few carefully selected words about what an asshole he is.

But, instead, she snickers. "Wow, what a fuckin' nerd."

"How does that make me a nerd?" he asks with a chuckle.

There's an amused grin playing on her lips, like she knows things she's not supposed to, as she walks up to him and leans down to press her lips to his cheek, just for a second. "Pick me up at seven," she says with her lips next to his ear. "I'll text you the address."

He has to swallow over how soft her lips are before he can speak. "Okay."

"Oh, and I won't be here tomorrow," she says as she straightens up, already missing how nice he smells up close.

"Why?"

"Baby, you think all this just happens?" she asks with a short laugh as she gestures at herself from head to toe. Even though she felt too lazy to put her "full face" on after waking up way too late in the morning, settling for braided hair and some lipstick, she still looks neat because of her false lashes, manicured nails, and outfit. "I need time to get ready. You can't rush perfection."

"You look pretty perfect to me already," he says in an infatuated tone, unable to hide the feelings taking up all the space inside him with her standing so close to him. Her brown eyes make his heart race.

She tilts her head a little, smiling again. He sounds charmingly honest. Suddenly, she's really into the idea of leaning down to kiss his lips. "Easy there, nerdy," she says low, running her fingers over the faint lipstick mark she left on his cheek.

Without taking his eyes off of hers, he touches her hand resting on the desk, running his fingers over her rings, but the large front doors of the church opening and closing breaks them both out of the moment. She pulls her hand away, gathers up the flowers and the box of chocolates, hurrying her way out, as she doesn't want to be seen leaving Dex's office with the gifts. Whatever is going to happen between them, she wants it kept private, for now. She doesn't need other crew members calling her out on trying to sleep her way to the top.

"Seven P.M.," she says at the door before walking out of the room, granting him one last, honeyed smile, "don't make me wait."

 

 

* * *

 


End file.
